


It's the Little Things

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Episode Related, Ficlet, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moonridge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:48:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair clear the air about the little things that are bothering them.  References to SenToo and TSbyBS.  Written for the Moonridge charity auction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Little Things

 

 

 

  
"Come on, that's it....just a little further, you can make it...."

With those words, Blair shouldered the front door open, stepped in and let Jim Ellison precede him inside.

"You're doing great, Jim, just let me help you."

Blair started to put his arm around Jim's waist but was waved off impatiently. "Don't need it, Chief, I'm fine, just fine."

Jim hobbled over to the couch and let his body slide down. "Now this feels good," he said with a satisfied smile.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I said I was fine, didn't I? It's just a few bruises, that's all."

"Jim, you fell down _three_ flights of stairs. You should have let me take you to the hospital, you could have a concussion."

"I said I'm fine - now stop hovering."

Blair wandered over to the other couch, sat down, picked up a magazine, then promptly asked, "How's your arm?"

"Do I really need to say it, Sandburg? My arm is _fine_."

"Boy, that really had to hurt; even more than falling down the stairs."

"Stabbings usually do, dimwit."

"You know, everything would have been fine if Mrs. Webster's cat hadn't gotten into the act.  By the way, how's your ankle?"

"F - i - n - e."

Blair nodded, got up, retrieved two beers from the fridge and handed one off to Jim, who started to reach for it, but grimaced instead.

"The ribs, huh?"

"Yes, Dipstick, the ribs."

"I still don't know how that guy snuck up on you, let alone where he found a bat in a cemetery. And talk about hurting…."

"A mere pinprick, you prick."

"Jeesh, you act as if it was all my fault."

"God damn it, Sandburg, how many times have I told you that it's _jeez_ , not _jeesh_. Hell, you can't even say that right - and it _was_ all your fault," Jim finished somewhat petulantly.

"You say po-tay-to, I say po-tah-to."

"I may just have to kill you."

"Hey, I didn't do anything wrong."

"You didn't do anything right, either."

"Oh, yeah? So who stopped the guy from shooting you after you dropped your gun - again?" Me, that's who."

"Yelling, _Hey, pussy, got a light?_ is not my idea of stopping a hardcore criminal with murderous thoughts, a knife, a gun _and_ a bat."

"But it worked. You weren't shot."

"No, you're right. I wasn't shot." Jim looked down at his bruised body and added dryly, "How lucky can one man be?"

"Of course, he did hit Simon, who's going to be mad at me for weeks. Sitting down is one of his favorite pastimes."

"Simon is crazy about you; with him, you can do no wrong. Why you haven't ended up in his bed by now, is beyond me."

"Uhm, Jim, you might just have a concussion after all. You just gave me a very weird compliment and that's totally not you."

"That was _not_ a compliment, that was bemoaning and wishing. If you ended up in _his_ bed, that it would be _his_ hot water you'd be stealing and not mine."

"Well," Blair huffed. "I could remedy that hot water problem, very quickly."

"How quickly?" Jim snapped.

Blair got back to his feet and, hands on hips, said, "Look you big lug, did I or did I not find the warehouse with the drug lab? Did I or did I not call for you and get back-up? Did I or did I not stay in the truck as instructed?"

"Did, did, and did. You're right, I'm being uncharacteristically negative. Of course, it wasn't until _after_ Connor screamed that you left the truck and came running, even though _I'd_ been yelling at you through the two way for over five minutes."

Looking truly innocent - and even a bit angelic - Blair said with just the right amount of sincerity, "But I thought it was a test. You know, you yell, try to trick me into leaving the truck, then when I do, you beat the shit out of me."

Jim studied him for a moment before finally saying, with maybe more bite than he'd intended, "You're pathetic."

The innocent look vanished, replaced by a much darker one. "You know, you've been acting like a real shit since the press conference. If you want me out of your life, just say so. I'm gone, history - who needs a fucking badge, anyway? I don't need no fucking badge--"

Jim held up his good arm - half way - in surrender. "Blair, this has nothing to do with the press conference, I swear it. You got us into that mess, you got us out of it. It was the least you could do."

"Not that you sound the least bit sincere and if that was some sort of apology, it sucked. But I'll move on and say - so your behavior is about Alex? You're still mad about Alex?"

"No, Sandburg, I'm not still mad about Alex. Are you?" Jim asked, sounding truly tired.

"Hell, no," Blair said sarcastically. "She was hot and I don't blame you a bit. Everyone knows that rule number seventeen of the Roommate Code of Honor is - and I quote - 'Death of a friend should never come between a man and the blonde who murdered aforementioned friend' unquote."

"I knew it. You _are_ still mad."

"Hey, it's over. You're a man, she was one hot looking babe, who could blame you?"

"You."

Blair's eyes narrowed before he hissed out, all pretense at humor gone, "Hell, yes, I'm mad. You should have been fucking me, you asshole!"

"So, you _were_ jealous," Jim stated flatly. Then all of Blair's words registered and his head snapped up, which hurt like hell, and he said, "Oh, my God, you were jealous of _her_!"

"Gee, now what makes you think that?"

"Call it sentinel intuition. And you know, you're the one who said the whole thing was a test and not my fault--"

"Yeah, but you didn't _do_ anything about that, see? You just went tripping along like nothing had happened--"

"I could quickly remedy that."

"…when we could have-- What?"

"I could remedy that."

"Remedy…what?"

"The part about how we could have been doing it and how I haven't done anything about that - until now."

The anger melted away and, with the gleam back in his eye, Blair asked, "How quickly?"

"Well, not counting all my minor injuries, pretty damn quickly."

***

Later:

"Damn, you're a snuggler."

"A snuggler and a cuddler, thank you very much."

"You should come with a warning, Chief."

"Hey, it's not like I didn't try to quit. I did. I was in a 12-step program, but hell, at the end of each meeting, they had a group hug which kind of defeated the whole thing, you know?"

"God, I'm in bed with a snuggler, a cuddler _and_ a hugger."

"Now, Jim, that's not fair. You've always known about the hugging and that I'm a very affectionate guy."

"Yeah, yeah."

Several minutes passed as they both rested, content in their current positions, which entailed Blair having carefully wrapped himself around Jim.

It was Jim who finally broke the silence. "You know, we did pretty damn good for the first through fourth times. But I have to say, I always kind of thought of you as a top and not once have you wanted to--"

"Hey, who rode whom? And which one of us is injured? And, as it happens, I rather like you topping."

"Yeah, but did it ever occur to you that maybe I'd like to catch sometime?"

"Not really."

"But now you do, so?"

Blair sat up and, pushing a mass of hair back from his face, a great sadness came over him. "Jim, I can't. Don't ask this of me."

"Why?" Jim asked, half suspicious, half worried.

"I just can't. The idea of me doing you... just no."

"Blair, tell me, please," Jim asked, now fearing the worst, that someone had hurt his partner.

"It happened years ago. In a park." Blair pulled the blankets back up, almost as if to shield himself before going on. "I was maybe six or seven, playing, you know? And I wandered away from Naomi and there was this man. A big man. He used to go to the park all the time and he had this little dog, like a terrier? On a leash. Anyway, I used to think it was funny, this big, huge man, walking this little dog, you know?"

"Yeah, to a kid, that would be funny." He placed a hand on Blair's blanket-covered knee. "Go on."

"Right, so one day there was another man in the park too, only he was considerably shorter but he was also walking a dog, but a huge one. I think they call them Mastiffs."

"What kind of dog did the big guy have, again?" Jim didn't know why he asked, other than maybe trying to forestall hearing something terrible that might have happened to his partner.

"Like a terrier. Brown and white. Anyway, I was sitting on a swing when the Mastiff got away from the short guy and ran toward the little terrier, who immediately managed to get away from the big guy. I was afraid and I remember that I wanted to get off the swing, grab my sand pail and put it over my head so I wouldn't have to see what would happen.

'But they weren't, you know, growling or anything and then… then the little one tried to, you know, mount the Mastiff... and like, everyone in the entire park seemed to freeze.  I mean, you can't believe how it looked, and both dogs, clearly wanting the same thing, were getting very frustrated and the terrier kept jumping up but couldn't reach the Mastiff but nature kind of took over and he started humping the air between the dog's legs, so obviously nowhere near where he needed to be... and let's face it, when I think of you and me… well, the idea is just too… you know…."

Jim closed his eyes, counted to ten and, when it didn't remove the desire to shoot Blair, he went on up to a hundred. Finally feeling more in control, he crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his partner, who was trying hard to maintain the pained look even though it was all too obvious he was holding back his laughter.

Jim cleared his throat and said very seriously, "I can see where that event would be very traumatic and obviously scarred you for life. Maybe we should abstain from anything that could trigger that horrifying memory--"

"Oh, shut up, you slobbering Mastiff. Your terrier needs a licking."

The End


End file.
